When Dee Pad finally arrived at the intersection of Platinum Street and Clover Boulevard, she was unsurprised to see a large queue trailing out the door of Arcade Heaven. No doubt these ponies were all waiting in line for their chance to fill a spot in the tournament roster. There were, after all, probably only a limited number of slots available.

What did surprise her, however, was how few mares there really were. Most of the other prospective entrants were all guys in their mid-teens. There were a few mares who looked as though they were accompanying a younger filly or colt who could otherwise not enter the tournament—maybe even mother/son or mother/daughter duos. Those ones in particular were her mother’s age.

In fact, the only mare her own age in the line-up was right up near the front of the line. Of course that pony was Sweetie Belle, who looked out of sorts surrounded by all these teens and stallions. Then again, she couldn’t rightly blame her for feeling any discomfort; she was a gorgeous mare, even with baggy looking sweatpants and a tee attempting to hide most of her beauty, surrounded by a bunch of hormonal boys and horny nerds.

As Dee drew closer, she could even hear the pegasus behind her making an attempt to chat her up. “Hey babe, you got a partner?” he asked with all the swagger he could muster. He looked to be her age, but he didn’t look like anyone from the institute; for all she knew, he was a college student. “If you don’t, you could always party up with me. For a pretty little thing like you, I wouldn’t mind sharing the prize, among other things.”

Sweetie Belle just glared at the guy before looking away. “I have a partner already,” she grumbled. “Even if I was willing to drop them like that—which I’m not—you look like you’re as good on your hooves as you are at picking up mares.”

The colts ahead and behind them whooped and jeered as their compatriot was shot down and burned so thoroughly. “There’s no need for that,” the fellow whined, crossing his forearms. “I’m here, and they’re not; just gimme a chance; I’m a nice guy...”

Dee rolled her eyes and strode up to the group. Without warning, or permission, she threw her arms around Sweetie Belle’s neck, using the tips of her hooves to give her just enough height to give her friend a peck on the cheek. “I’m so sorry you had to wait for me,” she said in earnest. “I ran into some trouble at the dorm and ended up running even more behind schedule when I stopped to get a flax muffin at the cafe.” She released her surprised friend and gave her a wink as she let herself back down to her normal height. “Did you wait long?”

Sweetie brought a hand up to her recently kissed cheek, already flush with embarrassment, and shook her head. “A bit longer than I’d have liked, with this one coming on to me.” She gestured a thumb over her shoulder, where the young stallion was now fuming behind her. “Guys, you know?”

Giving her a friend a knowing nod, she fidgeted with her purse and pretended to ignore the guy. “Like my outfit?” she asked, giving a quick twirl on the spot.

“You’ll certainly be putting on quite a show,” Sweetie replied, cocking an eyebrow. Leaning down to Dee’s level, she whispered, “Don’t you realize once you get moving, you’re going to be flashing everybody?”

Dee giggled and teasingly took the hem of the dress and pretended to raise it, drawing the leering of a few of the colts ahead of them, as well as a conflicted look from Sweetie. “They won’t be getting that kind of show, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “My spats protect my modesty.”

From behind them, Dee heard the self-proclaimed nice guy snort. “Figures,” he grumbled. “Only two babes here, and they’re a pair of dykes.”

From the look on Sweetie’s face, Dee imagined her friend might just strangle the guy behind them if she spoke, so before her friend could possibly get them barred from entry, she turned to face him. “So because my friend isn’t interested in you, we’re a pair of filly-foolers?” she asked with a rage that she found to be genuine. “‘Gosh, these mares aren’t enchanted by my amazing good looks and winning personality, they’ve got to be gay!’ Get over yourself!

“If a mare isn’t interested in you, it’s probably because you’re offering her nothing she wants,” she ranted. “You aren’t even a ‘nice guy’, as you put it. Contrary to what you seem to think, you are not entitled to a date or a marefriend, so don’t convince yourself that you are.

“Women hate whiny entitled brats like you.” She balled her fists and held them at her sides, leaning close to him and gave a snort of her own. “When you try to ‘pick up chicks’ like you did with my friend here, we don’t feel flattered; we feel creeped out. It’s not your bed that sort of sleazy sexual innuendo makes us want to crawl into; it’s a police box.

“So if you’re going to sit here calling us lesbians because you struck out, thinking you’re saving face—” She spun away, letting her ponytail slap him in the face. “—you’re only proving to everyone else how much of a loser you really are, you pathetic alpha male wannabe.”

For all the stallion might have wanted to, there was nothing for him to do other than choke on his impotent, red-faced anger. Too many ponies, especially the mothers and older teens were watching him, laughing. The mothers especially were clapping. Guys like him are the worst, she thought, watching a mare explain to her daughter what had just happened. Calls us babes and completely ignores the other women here like that. Shows what he’s really looking for.

For a few moments following the dressing down, no one said anything. What could be said? The guy was clearly embarrassed, and nothing could really be said to change anything. Ponies around them just stood there, snickering or staring. She almost felt sorry for him, except for the fact that he was a complete dick about the whole thing.

It all became too much for the stranger, who stormed off with a muttered, “I don’t need this shit!” He flipped them off as he left. “I hope you enjoy whatever douchebag you end up with.”

“Dee, you probably shouldn’t have done that,” Sweetie Belle finally said, her shoulders sagging as she spoke. “Guys like that are really unpredictable.” She crossed her arms and gave Dee a sour look. “They usually get the picture if you’re patient enough, but if you embarrass them like that...” With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Why did you even do that? It’s not like you had to put up with that sort of thing when you hit puberty.”

Why did I? Dee asked herself. I mean yeah, he was hitting on her and being completely disrespectful, but was that called for? What would Mom think? She groaned as her train of thought derailed. Putting aside the fact that she’ll be in town by Saturday, would she approve of what I said?

“I had to deal with it longer than that,” she admitted, stepping forward as the line began moving forward. “Even before I really understood why, there were always stallions hitting on my mom. They didn’t want any actual relationships; they just wanted under her tail, you know? Being a single mother, lot of them would string her along with pleasantries or gifts, but then they’d find out that she was more interested in my well being than dating.”

“So when that stallion...”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I was reminded of all the men who ever treated my mom like shit. The things she’s been called by guys like him...” Dee brought a hand up to her face, only to discover her cheeks were moist. “I guess it felt good to just vent all of that after all this time.”

Sweetie put an arm around Dee’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Just... Be careful in the future, okay?” she whispered. “Ponies like that can be dangerous.”

Once everyone who was interested in taking part in the tournament had paid and registered, the participants were led into the arcade proper, where a large area had been cleared of arcade machines. In their place, there were a number of folding chairs set up facing a series of brand new Hot Trot Fever game machines.

These weren’t the bulky, single dance-pad machines from Dee’s youth in Ponyville, however. These were sleek machines that were mostly speakers and a huge screen, in front of each was a large, double-width steel platform with buttons intended to be pressed with hooves inlaid and a support bar the user could rest against after the bout. Most eye-catching of all, however, was the splash screen on the machine, which declared the version to be Hot Trot Fever: Tournament Edition XL. These weren’t just brand new machines, either; they were the ones used in the official Trotnami sponsored tournaments.

After a short introduction from the owner once everybody was seated, he began to explain how the tournament would operate. “Each participating team will be placed on a machine in Doubles Score Attack mode, where they will be assigned a song at random from the tier list correspondent to the round of the tournament they are in. When the song is finished, the machine will tally your individual scores and transmit the team’s average to its assigned judge’s tablet for comparison.”

Sweetie Belle nudged Dee with an elbow before whispering, “Those are official tournament machines, Dee!”

Dee gave her friend a blank look and replied, “I didn’t know, honest. It didn’t say anything about it being official in the article!” Likewise, many of the other contestants seemed to have picked up on this. “Maybe we’ll find out before it begins.”

“The team with the highest average score will move on to the next round, so make sure to bring your A-game!” he said decisively. “Finalists will be allowed to choose from any song on the machines, including the long-play challenge songs if you so choose. Teams are encouraged to do their very best, but most of all, remember to have fun.” Gesturing to a harsh-looking mare beside him, he added, “Before we begin, our Trotnami sponsor, Madame Gravenicker, would like to speak to you all.”

“Greetings to you all, everybody, and welcome to the first annual Hot Trot Open,” she said in a very cultured accent. “For many years, the peoples of all races have taken great pleasure in playing Hot Trot Fever. Many have even made a sport of it.” Madame Gravenicker smiled broadly at the crowd seated before her before turning to face the tournament stations, indicating them with her arms spread widely. “The invitational tournaments of the past have catered almost exclusively to the record setters here in the arcades, making them almost inaccessible to the home players.

“We at Trotnami want to see to it that the professional circuit more accessible to these players, which is why we are now hosting highly public tournaments across not just Equestria, but the entire globe!” She turned back to the contestants and grinned. “The first place team will be granted an all-expenses paid trip to the HTF Equestrian Division Championship in July, where, if you so choose, you will be granted a special guest slot...”

Dee tuned out the rest of the mare’s spiel about prizes for second place and the other semi-finalists. All of it paled in comparison to the thought of what the prize meant. Ever since she was a little boy, playing with the very Joy Boy that sat in her dorm room today, she’d grown up with the idea of how she wanted to live a life doing the thing she loved—playing video games. For whatever reason, she had begun to think her old and new lifestyles were irreconcilable, but now here was a chance of a lifetime. The HTF professional circuit wasn’t an option when she was a colt because of all the masculinity she’d attempted to front, but in reality it was one of the most sexually diverse gaming leagues in the world. If she had a chance at playing games for a living, it was up for grabs, here and now.

Here goes everything...

For the two friends, the opening round was a complete cakewalk. Dee never would have admitted it as a boy, but she greatly enjoyed the game, and being unable to take it a step further because of personal compunction was a painful choice she had to live with. Now, in spite of that, here she was, reveling in the joy of playing the game and using years of practice to put a pair of geeky teens to shame.

Her exuberance, combined with Sweetie’s own unmistakable skill at the game, was indeed more than enough to push them through the next few rounds with great ease. Even with a number of unfamiliar tracks being thrown at them, they were unbeatable. What was more, of the ponies that had show up to watch the competition, there was an unmistakable amount of applause whenever the pair took the stage or declared the winner in their round.

The cheering, even more than simply losing herself in the game and putting on a good show, was addictive—intoxicating, even. As more ponies cheered them on, into the quarter finals, it hit her just what this was to her. The energy, the attention, and praise reminded her of the sessions with Diamond and Silver. Just dancing for the crowd was almost as, if not more, rewarding as sex.

Once she had that in her head, the whole experience took on another layer of intensity. The sweat on her brow... the sway of her hips as she depressed the oversized buttons on the platform... having dozens of ponies watching her... I don’t want to admit it, but this is starting to turn me on. Even as the song drew to a close, it couldn’t come soon enough. I feel like I’m going to cum from the rubbing of my panties.

By the time they were crowned winners of the round and lead back to their seats, she was convinced that she was beginning to leak a fair amount of pre-seminal fluid into her panties. There was even a slight slickness spreading near the bottom of her butt from the vigorous movements of the game. I definitely need to get to the bathroom before this starts to stain too much.

Turning to Sweetie Belle, she whispered with a pleading look, “Say, you don’t happen to have any sanitary napkins in your purse, do you?”

Her friend must have been caught off guard by the question, because she almost dropped her bottled water. With a raised eyebrow, she asked, “W-what? Why?”

Dee gave her friend a sheepish look and began pressing her index fingers together. “I’m having a problem. You know... down there. Something I wasn’t planning for.”

“Really? How do you even...” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dee. I only ever carry tampons. I don’t think they’re going to help you in that department,” she replied. “The dispenser in the women’s room has them though. Hurry, though; the semi finals start in ten minutes.”

Without a response, she stood up and dashed off of the main floor and into a side hallway. It wasn’t her first time in the arcade, despite her mother’s insistence on study over gaming, so she knew where the bathrooms were, but it would be her first time entering the women’s restroom on her own since the bizarre turn her life had taken. Making a silent prayer that nothing like that would happen again, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The arcade’s women’s restroom was very much like those at the institute in many respects. As she stood at the granite topped counter and exchanged a bit for a sanitary napkin at one of the machines, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some nation-wide law that mandated gender stereotyping in bathroom design—after all, pink paint or floral wallpaper had been present in every women’s room she’d been in—but the thought was quickly put aside. After all, it was much less important in comparison to her current issue.

Pushing aside the unimportant quandary, she rushed into one of the stalls and closed the door. It was momentarily awkward to assess her issue when she realized that in her present state, the removal of her panties would allow her dribbling member to spring fully erect and risk smearing precum on the inside of her dress. What had already soaked into the cotton of her panties was easier to conceal than semen spots on her dress, so she lowered the lid on the toilet and, with great care, lifted the skirt of her dress as she sat. From there, it was just a matter of removing her compression shorts and dragging the panties down to her knees.

As had been expected, her manhood stood at attention the moment it was freed from its cotton embrace and, as though it were a dog greeting its owner, drooled appreciatively. Bad dog, she thought wryly, and then giggled at her own silly mental image. Dee wasted no time as she carefully wiped down the last vestige of her masculinity with toilet paper before turning her attention to the mess in her panties. Finally she was able to seat the pad in her panties and get back to the tournament.

It was when she was in the middle of tucking that it began to feel like something wasn’t right. The sound of the door opening was pretty mundane, but the thought of being found with her hand covering her pubic mound set her coat standing on end. What would they think she was doing as she forced her testicles back into the cavity from which they had descended? Might they think she was doing something naughty? The heaviness of the hoofsteps that followed a loud clunk, however, was not so ordinary. Even the largest of mares weren’t so loud when they walked, and the stride was too long to be a regular mare.

“I know you’re in here, you sassy little bitch,” came a voice from beyond the door. It was not a welcome voice, if the voice of a stallion could ever be considered welcome in this restroom, and it certainly wasn’t friendly. Even though the event was still fairly recent in her mind, it still took her a moment to place the voice. Sweetie Belle’s words echoed in her mind as she tried to back away from the stall door. Ponies like that are unpredictable. It was unmistakably the stallion from before.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he said. Another bang shook the very stall as it reverberated throughout the room. “It’s okay, I just want to talk.”

Dee stifled a squeak as the stall shook once more and the door to the stall next to her slammed against the wall. She pulled her panties and spats back up with a trembling hand before scrambling onto the toilet. His breathing outside the door of her stall was heavy and deep, almost a growl. “Eeny-meeny miney-mo; only one more stall to go!”

She covered her head with her hands and let out a plaintive whimper. This guy didn’t want to talk. Someone who wanted to talk didn’t barge into the bathroom and begin kicking in doors; that’s what an angry pony did. Who could be more angry than the stallion she’d publicly embarrassed and subjected to ridicule? No, he didn’t want to talk; he wanted to assert his dominance, and there were only two endings there.

The door to the stall exploded open, and before her stood the very man she’d shamed outside the arcade. “There you are, you fiery little thing,” he said in a tone that made her feel queasy. “Don’t you want to apologize for what you did to me?”

“G-go aw-w-way!” Dee cried, as she cringed away from the stallion looming over her. “I didn’t do anything to you!”

His eyes, like two ominous globes of hate, widened at her claim, and then narrowed to near slits. “Didn’t do anything?” With a snarl, he grabbed her by the collar of her dress and hauled her out of the stall. “You humiliated me out there in front of all of the other competitors, and then once I finally registered, I ended up paired with some scrub kid who doesn’t know his left hoof from his right.”

The stallion threw her against the counter and pushed her face against the mirror. “Not that he was even looking at the screen!” She felt him tug her spats and underwear down with his free hand, while his other remained at the back of her neck. “He was too busy hoping for a glimpse of this tight little ass.”

As much as she struggled against his strength, she could only watch in mute horror as he brought his free hand up to his mouth and spat on it. The sudden vigor with which he jammed his large fingers into her rectum elicited a squeal of pain from her. “No! I don’t want this! I’m sorry! Just please, stop!”

“An ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t get me out of the losers bracket with a better partner!” He twisted his wrist and growled. “‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t keep you from distracting your opponents with your dress! You should be disqualified for playing dirty. Fuckin’ tease!”

“Speaking of disqualified,” came a very welcome voice from the doorway, “I think both the judges and the arcade owner would be very interested to find out you sexually assaulted one of your competitors in the women’s restroom.”

In the door of the restroom stood Sweetie Belle, her cellular phone in her hand. The camera port on the device was directed right at the scene before her, no doubt perfectly catching the stallion’s surprised face. “For that matter, just imagine what the police will think.”

“Nobody will ever find out, now will they?” he said, narrowing his eyes, and tightening his grip on the back of Dee’s neck. “Don’t want any accidents, do we?”

Sweetie Belle just glowered at him. “You don’t have the balls to do anything to me; hell, you don’t have the balls to do anything to her,” she said in a confident tone. “If you had any, you would have already raped her. Instead you’re more concerned about asserting your dominance verbally. Besides, I’ve already sent a copy of the video to a friend, who’ll call the police if I don’t send her an all-clear. Let her go.” When he made no move to let her go, she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head at the door. “So what way do you want to play this?”

“Fuckin’ cunt!” he yelled, shoving Dee aside.

As her head clipped the edge of the counter, she thought she could hear Sweetie screaming something. “Someone help! This guy just attacked my friend in the bathroom!”

Sweetie heaved a sigh of relief when Button’s—Dee's—eyes fluttered open a short while later.

“You really had me worried,” she whispered, pulling away a cloth reddened by her friend’s blood. While she’d succeeded in cleaning most of the blood out of the smaller mare’s mane, there were still some stained spots close to where she’d split her scalp. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone’s been playing Tetris with my brain,” Dee groaned, rising up from her friend’s lap. She looked up into Sweetie’s eyes for a moment before scrambling off of her and huddling against the wall. They were still in the bathroom, it seemed. “Is it our turn yet?”

Her unicorn friend shook her head, wiping a wet cloth across her own muzzle, cleaning away the remnants of a bloody nose. “Tournament’s cancelled,” she replied. “They pretty much had to when they found out a contestant had assaulted two others... one of them sexually.” Sweetie inclined her head toward the door, where a policemare stood patiently. “The cops want to talk to you about what happened.”

Dee’s eyes widened reflexively as she took in the sight of the police officer, but her mind barely registered the mare. She was lost in thought at the sight of her. If I talk to the police, they’re going to find out why I was in here, was her primary line of thought, and they’re going to think I’m a pervert! They could arrest me for being lewd, even though I was the one attacked!

She allowed her gaze to wander along with her mind as the officer drew closer. For that matter, could I even face that guy in a court room? An involuntary shudder racked her body when the next thought burst to the forefront of her mind. What if he got out on bail? If I testify against him, he could try to get some sort of revenge! What if he comes after me or Sweetie Belle? What if... mom...

“I don’t want to testify...” she said, sniffing back the sudden efflux of tears. “Don’t make me testify.”

The policemare froze half-way between the girls and the door, her professional demeanor betrayed by the hesitant look in her eyes. From Dee’s position, she thought she could see the cop mouth something under her breath, but with the tears in her eyes, it could have been her imagination. When the officer finished her approach, she crouched down to Dee’s level and offered up a tissue.

“I can’t promise the district attorney won’t make you testify, honey,” she offered in a soft tone as she patted Dee’s shoulder, “but I can promise that regardless of your testimony, the video evidence is damning enough that you won’t have to worry about him getting off.” Dee shied away from the officer’s touch, taking scant comfort in her attempt.

Unsure of whether or not Dee would answer, Sweetie spoke up. “I think she’s afraid he might come after her before the trial,” she said, hugging her friend close. “Things have been rough for her these last few days and among it all, she decided...” She gave an apologetic look to her friend. “She’s transitioning. For all he did to her, I think it’s starting to sink in that it could have been so much worse if he had been just a more bit forward.”

An involuntary shudder racked Dee’s body as Sweetie Belle continued. It wasn’t because what she had said was the truth, but rather that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Sure, plenty of ponies were tolerant of homosexuality, transgendered ponies, and interspecies relations, but that stallion didn’t exactly seem to be the accepting type. If he’d discovered my manhood, it could have been so much worse.

“Listen, I’d feel terrible if I just left you like this,” the officer said, as if in answer to something Sweetie Belle had said but remained unheard by Dee. “After I take your statements, I can have someone drive you home. Is that okay?”

Dee only nodded before burying her face into Sweetie’s shoulder. Home, to the institute. Where I’m going, I’ll get yelled at or maybe have the book thrown at me. If it’s not one problem, it’s another.

“It’s going to be okay now,” Sweetie Belle promised. Stroking her hair, she smiled gently. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

Author's Notes:

Before you all jump to conclusions, this is not turning into a 'dump on the protagonist' story like one of my other fics, I want to assure you that this is not the case. Many of you might have noticed that Button, or rather Dee now, has been getting almost arrogant in her self confidence [Fluttershy, anybody?] and running her mouth in situations that could have worse. It was only a matter of time until that mouth of hers got her in trouble.

That said, this is not going to become some super rape-y story. In fact, this is the closest to rape this story will ever get. Rather, things can only get better from here.

Up next... you all remember what the RA said to Dee before she left, right? It's a homecoming of a sorts!